


To Stop and Smell a Rose

by Kellyscams



Series: Above the Rain and Roses Universe [2]
Category: Captain America (Comics), Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Aftercare, Alternate Universe - BDSM, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Awkward Flirting, Awkwardness, Bondage, Butt Plugs, Clint Barton Is a Good Bro, Collars, Crying, Dom Steve Rogers, Dom/sub, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Falling In Love, First Dates, Flogging, Happy Ending, Light Angst, Light Masochism, M/M, Masochist Bucky, Nervousness, Past Abuse, Past Relationship(s), Spanking, Sub Bucky Barnes, Subspace, Vibrators, nervous Bucky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-06
Updated: 2017-11-06
Packaged: 2019-01-30 08:13:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12649629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kellyscams/pseuds/Kellyscams
Summary: A few weeks after meeting for the second time, Bucky is treated by Steve to his very first romantic date ever.





	To Stop and Smell a Rose

“I’m gonna take you to dinner.”

“Oh yeah?” Bucky chuckles as he crosses his room with a stack of clothes meant for his dresser. Meant for the drawer, but will probably end up on top of it since he’s feeling rather lazy. “Where would you like to take me to dinner?”

“I don’t know yet,” Steve answers. “Probably some place nice.”

“Nice is a relative term, Sir.” 

Steve snorts and then says something to someone on his end. Work related things. He’s called Bucky from his cell, but he’s still at the station. Bucky waits until he has Steve’s attention again. 

“How about nicer than McDonald’s but a little less ritzy than, let’s say, Per Se?”

Eyebrows pulling in, Bucky tilts his head as though Steve is there to actually witness his confusion.

“I… I dunno where that is,” he admits. “Or what it is. French? It sounds French.”

“No?” Steve laughs. “Well, you’re not gonna find out now cause it’s not like I can afford it on my salary. And yes, by the way. It’s a French restaurant in Hell’s Kitchen.”

“Oh.” Bucky sits down at the edge of his bed. Taps his toes on the floor, waiting for Steve to go on. “So…?”

“So, what?”

Scoffing, Bucky rolls his eyes and lands back with a little bounce on the mattress. “So… when’re we goin’? Also, what should I do? You’re the Dom, I’m the sub, remember?” He holds his wrist up and taps the steel bracelet locked around it. “People’ll are gonna know when we’re out.”

“The hell if I care,” Steve replies. “But Friday evening, if you’re not working.” 

He is, in fact, on the schedule for Friday night, but if Bucky requests the evening off at the behest of a Dom, the bar legally can’t stop him. Now that he’s a registered sub, he’s allotted a certain amount of sub-days -- random days in which he can take off work on a moment’s notice without any consequences. 

When in a contract, his Dominant always has the legal authority to pull him from work. Several of his past Doms have kept him from doing so completely, choosing to keep him at home instead of working at all. Bucky’s spent many days alone and bored, sinking into deep depressions because of it. 

“Friday’s good,” Bucky says. It’s Steve who usually has the tougher schedule to work around anyway. “But seriously, what about everything else?”

“What’d’ya mean?”

“You _know_.” Bucky holds his arm up and shakes it, making the silver bracelet jingle against his metal arm. “The rest of it. What should I wear? How should do you want my hair? What protocol are you using? Y’now, that stuff.”

“I told you already, I don’t care.” Sounds like Steve is sorting through papers. “I’m taking you out. We haven’t even discussed a Consideration Collar yet.” 

Steve pauses there. An awkward sort of pause, like he’s not sure if should have said that or not. He did offer a Collar of Protection a few days after that night he chased him down at the station, but Bucky declined. Steve hasn’t brought up any type of collar since. Until now, anyway. 

The glands in Bucky’s throat get tight, his stomach folding and chest squeezing. Collars are something he’s been trying _not_ to think about. Not to _talk_ about. They’re taking things slowly. That’s what they agreed. 

That doesn’t mean Bucky hasn’t had to use a lot of willpower not to blurt out his desire to talk about a Consideration Collar. Or even take Steve up on his offer on a Collar of Protection. 

It wouldn’t make Steve his Dominant, but it _would_ keep Bucky safe from any advancements from any others without Steve’s knowledge. They due tend to be used after failed relationships, and Bucky sure has had his share of those. He’s never had a Dom offer a Collar of Protection. Maybe it’d be nice. No real expectations. Just… someone to feel safe with.

After a moment or two of awkward silence, Steve coughs once. Twice, then, “I’m not, uh, gonna tell you what to wear or how to act.”

Pulled back to the current situation at hand, Bucky sits back up so quickly his head spins. None of that makes any sense. Not going to tell him what to do? They might not be in a contract, hell, they’re not even in a pre-contract, but the idea of a Dominant going out with him and not taking control is just bizarre. Confusing, even. 

“I don’t understand,” he says. “You’re not?”

“No.” Steve says it like this should be obvious. “I’m taking you out on a date, Bucky.” 

“A date?”

“Yeah. You know, go to a nice restaurant, have dinner together, sit and talk while we get to know each other better. A date.” 

Date. The word floats around the room. Pulsing. Growing. Until it settles upon Bucky’s chest, heavy and new. 

“I…” Bucky draws in an uneasy breath. “You’re taking me on a date?”

“Yeah?” Steve laughs. “Haven’t you… “ There’s a clear hesitation and Bucky’s insides twist at the thought of displeasing Steve. “Have you ever been taken on a _date_ before, Bucky?”

Instinct has him offended, only there’s really nothing he can be offended about. If Bucky thinks about it, he really _hasn’t_ been on a date. Not a the way Steve’s describing, anyway. 

None of his past Doms had ever taken him out that way. Not the way Steve means. It’s really nothing Bucky’s ever considered before. Normally, he’d be on his way to being collared to another asshole Dom already. Going out meant a night of rules and protocol. Nothing remarkable in the beginning -- what to wear, what to eat, when to speak. Different protocol for different Doms. Normal things. Normal for lots of people in fact. 

Steve’s suggesting something completely new and different. Something Bucky’s never encountered. He has no experience in this. And he finds himself unsure how to respond. 

It’s different with Steve. Okay, so, it’s only been three weeks with Steve. Three weeks of… to be honest, Bucky’s not even sure what to call it. They have no contract, not even a pre-contract -- Bucky’s not Steve’s sub. Just as Steve said, they haven’t even discussed a Consideration Collar. They’re more than friends, yes. They talk almost every day, but Steve’s schedule keeps them apart a lot more than they’d like. 

“Bucky?”

Steve’s voice cuts through Bucky’s thoughts. He clears his throat and smiles nervously like Steve is sitting there with him. 

“Yeah,” he answers. “Yeah, I’m… I’m still here.” 

“Is that alright?” he asks. “If I take you on a date? Would you like that?” Before Bucky can go on to respond at all, though his mouth is open to do so, Steve rushes to say, “Cause if it’s not, that’s fine. Don’t worry about it at all, I don’t wanna do anything you’re not comfortable with. Don’t feel pressured or anything, really.”

That nervous smile eases into a real one and even stretches wider as Steve’s babbling reassurance goes on and on. 

“Steve,” Bucky interrupts. “I’m okay with it.”

_I think._

“I swear, I’d never make you do-- wait, what?”

Bucky chuckles. “I’m okay with it. Really.”

Sounds like Steve needs a moment to process that and when he does, the excitement in his voice has roses blooming in Bucky’s heart. 

“Yeah?!” Steve exclaims. “Great! So, then, I’ll pick you up at six? Does that work?”

“Oh.” 

“Is that… okay?”

There’s probably no reason to ask the question floating through Bucky’s mind. It’s pretty ridiculous. But he just has to. Once it’s in there, he just needs to know for sure. 

“Yeah, it’s just… you’re not gonna…” He sighs. Shakes his head. “It’s not a cop car, right?”

Steve bursts out laughing, and goes on laughing so long that Bucky huffs and switches the phone from one ear to the other. 

“Is that a _no_ , then?” Bucky asks when he suspects Steve is finally getting control of himself. “But by all means, if you’re not done…”

“I’m sorry,” Steve says, though there’s definitely humor still there. “I just… why that even cross your mind?”

“I don’t… I don’t know!” There’s a whine in Bucky’s voice. “We live in _Brooklyn_! Who drives in Brooklyn?” 

“Lots of people drive in Brooklyn.”

Standing and strolling to the window, Bucky shakes his head with a roll of his eyes. Steve fucking Rogers. Does he do anything normal?

“Weirdos drive in Brooklyn,” Bucky says. “Why would you pay for a car and insurance when you can just take the subway? Or an Uber?”

“I’m just paying insurance,” Steve gloats. “I paid my ride off a year ago.” 

At the window, tracing a smiley face into the fog of his breath on the glass, Bucky snorts. 

“Jesus,” he mumbles through grin. “There was never a time you could pull that off.” 

“No?”

“Nope.” Bucky hops back onto his bed. “But fine, keep bein’ a weirdo, weirdo. You pull that one off.” 

Steve scoffs. “You _are_ a handful. So, are we set then? Friday? Six? I can pick you up?”

Sure, except everything about this feels backwards. They don’t have any contracts in the works, but _Steve_ is still the Dom. Even when Bucky goes out with Natasha he defers more to her. 

It’s just an instinct. A biological response to Dominance. Sometimes even physical reactions to certain tones and looks. With a trusted Dominant it’s only natural. It’s completely Bucky’s choice whether or not to listen. 

“Yes, Sir,” Bucky says. “That… works.”

Steve’s quiet for just a second before telling someone he’ll be off in just a second. Despite the strangeness of all this, Bucky still pouts. He doesn’t want to get off the phone. 

“You don’t have to call me Sir, Buck,” Steve tells him when he’s back again. “I’m not your Dom. And we’re not in a scene.” 

Cold washes over Bucky. Silly, really. They’ve made it perfectly clear that they’re not in a relationship. That they’re taking things slow to see how -- or even if -- they should proceed. What they want. Where they’d like to see things head. 

Something about Steve saying he’s not Bucky’s Dom aloud though… he just doesn’t like it. And since everything else is new and different, he figures he can go for something new and different himself. 

“What if I wanna call you Sir?”

He holds his breath as he waits for an answer, which takes a second or two since his question might surprise Steve. 

“Uh.” He breathes a chuckle. “Then call me Sir, I guess. Whatever makes you comfortable.”

Another smile pulls up on Bucky’s smile. Where the hell did this guy come from? 

“I gotta go,” Steve says. “But I’ll see you Friday.”

“Okay…” Bucky tries this out. “Bye, Steve.”

There’s definitely a smile in Steve’s voice when he says, “Bye, Buck.”

They disconnect and Bucky turns his phone over in his hands for a few minutes, running through this. Steve, a Dominant who’s not _his_ Dom, is going to take him out on a date. A _date_. The thought is exhilarating. A rush of adrenaline that runs through him like a rollercoaster loop. 

And then it occurs to Bucky that he has literally zero experience in such matters of romance and dating. Bucky know tradition and protocol and procedure. He’s been following after asshole Doms since he was seventeen-years-old, and nerves scatter down over his entire body like tacks and nails. 

Other people do this. Of course they do. And not just standards. Dominants and submissives. They go on dates similar to what Steve’s talking about. But Bucky doesn’t. At least, he never has. 

A part of Bucky almost wants to call Steve back to cancel. He can. He’s sure -- almost sure -- that Steve won’t be angry with him. Bucky even pulls up Steve’s number. His thumb hovers over the screen, ready to touch it so he can call him back and make up some excuse. 

He doesn’t though. Instead, Bucky drops the phone onto his bed and shoves a pair of sweats on. Dashing out of his studio apartment, Bucky heads down the stairs and starts banging on the door of the apartment below. 

“Clint!” he shouts. “Clint, are you home?” Bucky pounds harder and faster. “Clin-”

The door is heaved opened and Clint is standing there, in only a pair of boxers and shaving cream on half his face.

“What, what?” Clint looks out in the hall as though expecting to see something. “What is it?”

“What do people do on dates?”

Taking a step back, Clint tilts his head slightly and blinks and then might go to say something, but nothing actually happens. His takes in a deep breath and holds a finger up. 

“Say that again,” he requests. 

“Dates,” Bucky repeats. “What do people do on dates.” 

The expression on Clint’s face falls somewhere between disbelief and maybe wanting to punch Bucky. 

“You scared the hell outta me for _this_?” he asks. “Are you serious?”

“I… yeah. It’s important.” 

“What people do on _dates_?”

Bucky jerks his knee and little whine gets caught in his throat. He really doesn’t want to tell Clint just why he’s freaking out though he’s running out of options. Silly, too. It’s not like Clint’s gonna laugh at him or anything. 

“Steve,” he hurries to say. “Steve wants to take me on a date.” 

As soon as he says it, Clint straightens up and blinks a few time. He jerks his head to invite Bucky in.

“Okay, come in.” 

The dog, Lucky, trots on over to Bucky, tongue hanging out of the side of his mouth and all ready to jump up to greet him with a bunch of sloppy dog kisses. On any normal days, Bucky would crouch down and let him. Maybe even roll around on the floor with him for a bit. But today, he’s really only able to gives him a couple pats on the head.

“Okay, so,” Clint says after he’s closed the door. “Steve asked you out on a date. This is… good, isn’t it?” 

“I mean, y’know, like…” Bucky shakes his head. “It’s not _bad_. It’s just… what am I supposed to _do_?”

Clint snickers. “What do you mean? You like ‘im, don’t you?”

“Yeah.”

“And so far he hasn’t exhibited any of the normal Asshole Dom traits on a red flag list, right?” Bucky shakes his head. “So, what’s the problem?”

“The problem is I dunno what to _d-o_!” Bucky whines. “And I don’t want to fuck it all up and chase him away just because of a date!”

“If you chase him away over a botched date, then he’s an asshole.” 

Clint goes to scratch the side of his face and must’ve forgotten about the shaving cream. It smears all over and he sighs with a certain _of course_ reserve while Bucky holds in a laugh. 

“Clint,” Bucky says, serious, his stomach starting to turn. “I don’t know what to do.” 

“It’s a _date_ , kid,” Clint answers. “You do the things that normally goes on.”

“No, Clint. _I_ don’t know what _to do_.” 

There’s a clear indication on Clint’s face between the moment he doesn’t get what Bucky means to the moment he immediately does. His eyebrows shoot up. His mouth forms an ‘o’ shape. He nods. 

“Okay.” Clint uses a doily on the arm of the couch to wipe the shaving cream off his face, remarking how he always hated them anyway. “Okay. So. Okay. What did he say?”

Bucky tells him everything he and Steve discussed. A nice restaurant, but nothing over the top. That Steve was going to be picking him up around seven on Friday. And that he wasn’t going to be giving Bucky any protocol to follow. 

“And that’s what’s got you shaken up?” Clint asks. “That he’s not giving you any protocol?”

“Well, it’s just… I’ve never done anything like this.”

“Bucky.” Clint drops an arm around his shoulder and pulls him in close. “Just be yourself. You likes you. You don’t have to impress him.” 

“But--”

“No, that’s just it, Bucky.” He moves away from him and makes sure he’s looking right into his eyes. “I may be standard, but I do know that you don’t ask someone on a date if you’re waiting to be impressed. He’s impressed. Hell--” Clint slaps his hand down on Bucky’s thigh “the guy chased you down when you broke out of jail to tell you he loved you!”

“I didn’t break out of jail!” Bucky exclaims. “And he didn’t tell me…” 

Sunlight from the window behind them tickles Bucky’s cheek. Maybe Clint is right. Really, it wouldn’t be the first time. Steve did say he _wanted_ to fall in love with him. That he… _would_ fall in love with him. 

The thought makes that sunlight break into a thousand pieces, all of them skipping about the room.

Smothering his face in his palms, Bucky leans forward and once again repeats that he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do. This time, he even slips in that he _can’t_ do this and should probably just cancel. 

“What would you do,” Clint asks, “when we grab something to eat?”

Nose crinkling up, Bucky can only make a face at him before coming up with an answer for him.

“Act like this, I guess,” he responds. “Only less nervous.” 

“Perfect. That’s all you need to do.” Clint shrugs and then raises an eyebrow. “Unless you’re looking to be his sub or something. Are you?”

“I… no. I mean… I dunno.” He shakes his head and sighs. “I really don’t. I know I wanna scene with him again.”

God, does he. It’s been almost four months since Bucky’s had a scene at all and he’s getting fucking desperate. As in, one slap on his ass away from losing it. 

“Well, I can’t help with that, but….” He holds up both hands. “He likes you, you like him.” He claps those hands together. “Shouldn’t be this big of a deal.” 

Bucky scoffs. “You’re such an ass.” 

“I’m the ass who’s gonna distract you until Friday so you’re not worried about something you have no reason to be worried about. C’mon.” 

Friday is only three days away, but because of Clint, Bucky’s busy the whole time. Whether he’s telling his three kids that Bucky is gonna play with them or having Bucky be the one to take the dog for each and every walk or telling him Laura needs a hand in making homemade pizza, Clint always has something for him to do. 

When he’s not being pulled in all different directions of distraction by Clint, he’s at work. Sure, The Winter Soldier might be a hole in the wall, run down, shitty place, but it’s still his job. He’s not about to go to jail for serving an underage drinker or get fired for mixing drinks wrong. The bar, busy or not, keeps his attention away from what’s coming up on Friday enough that he can’t really worry about it. 

As a bartender, he needs to be social. He needs to be attentive. He chats up the ladies, the fellas, whoever might catch his attention or whoever has their sights set on him. Even if that means sometimes having to put up with the occasional Dom trying to hit on him despite his constant rejections. 

The only times Bucky really has to pay any attention to the nerves that bubble up and pop in his belly, are when he’s laying in bed at night. When he tosses and turns and begs his brain to just leave him alone and let him get to sleep. 

By the time Friday comes, Bucky can’t tell if he’s a mess of nerves or a bundle of excitement. Butterflies flap around in his stomach while he can’t pry this ridiculous, cheesy smile off his face. 

While he’s not so sure what he’s doing -- evident in the fact that it takes him emptying nearly his entire wardrobe, taking three showers, and spending almost ninety minutes doing his hair -- Steve is coming to pick him up to take him on a date. A _date_. Bucky really has no idea what to expect. 

What’ll Steve be like? Where’s he taking Bucky? Is dinner all they’ll be doing? Will they scene? Does Steve even _want_ to scene?

As the time ticks nearer and nearer, something begins to dawn on Bucky that hadn’t earlier. He might not have gone on a date like this before, but he _has_ been on a professional submissive for the Armory for the past five years. Different or not, Bucky knows how to think on his feet. He can charm and flirt and tease. Hell, like Clint’s been trying to tell him all along, he _did_ rope Steve in in the first place, right?

After three days of anxiety and what ifs and wondering if he should back out, Bucky’s finally beginning to think he can do this. 

He’s running over imaginary scenarios when his doorbell buzzes, making his heart leap up to his throat. Bucky takes a glimpse at the time and realizes it’s five minutes past seven. Not wanting to get ahead of himself -- it _could_ be anyone, after all -- he tries not to sprint to the speaker. And fails. 

Heart drumming against his ribs, Bucky presses the button and hopes his voice doesn’t give an embarrassing shake when he speaks.

“Hello?”

“Hey!” Steve’s voice booms through the speaker loud enough that it startles Bucky. Steve clears his throat. “Um… Hi. It’s Steve. I’m here.” 

Bucky laughs. “I noticed.” And just because Steve’s greeting alone has pushed Bucky back into a more balanced level of confidence, he says, “You’re late.” 

There’s a smile in Steve’s voice. “I know. I’m sorry. Forgive me?”

“Only if this is a good date.”

“Well, I’ll do my best.” 

Chuckling, Bucky tells him that he’ll be right down and permits himself one minute of giddy excitement, before checking his hair and then skipping down the stairs. Before opening the door, Bucky takes in a deep breath, reminds himself that he can do this, and goes out there. 

Steve is waiting right at the bottom of the stoop, leaned up against the brick post. And he’s got flowers. _Flowers_. Bucky’s heart picks up double time. 

“Hey,” he calls down to Steve. Play it cool. “What’cha got there?”

First looking at the bouquet he’s got, Steve grins at the colorful blossoms, and flicks his eyes up at Bucky. Without so much as a warning, he tosses them up to Bucky. Acting fast, Bucky reaches out to grab them, the cellophane wrapping crinkling under his grasp. 

“Oh my god,” Bucky laughs. “Steve, what the hell.” 

“For you.” His cheeks suddenly match the petals of the few roses. “Is that… you like?”

Unable to help it, Bucky puts his face to the flowers just to give them a quick sniff. Just like he’s seen done in a hundred Disney movies. They’re sweet and wonderful, and the smile on Bucky’s face just grows wider. 

“I do.” Bucky turns on his heels and narrowly misses a collision with the locked door. “I’ll put these in water and be right down!”

The flowers never actually make it into a vase of water. Bucky’s not even sure he _owns_ a vase to put them in. They do go into the sink, though, filled with about an inch of water. 

“Okay,” he says when he’s back outside. “So, you made a big deal about pickin’ me up.” Bucky looks up and down the block. Sees cars parked, even illegally and front of signs that no one really understands anyway. “Where’s this _sweet ride_ of yours?” 

A smirk pulls up on the side of his lips. Eyebrows lifting just a bit, Steve gestures with his head at something across the street. Bucky goes up on his toes to see what he’s talking about. 

There’s nothing all that impressive over that. A banged up Toyota that hasn’t moved in weeks with a ton of tickets under the wipers. A Sante Fe that belongs to the neighbors. A nice looking Harley Davidson, though Bucky knows fuck all about motorcycles. And a Hyundai Elantra that has to be at least ten years old. Nothing else over there seems close enough to be what Steve’s talking about.

“Um?” Bucky shrugs dramatically. “Are you sure you drove here?”

“Sorta sure.”

“How’re you _sorta_ sure? Are you sure or not?”

Steve rolls his eyes and scoffs. He tells Bucky to _just c’mon_ , checks for traffic and, strolls across the street. It takes Bucky several more heartbeats than it should for him to realize that he should follow. Stepping off the curb, Bucky hurries to catch up, and ends up with Steve right in front of the motorcycle. 

“Okay?” Bucky looks around. “I’m confused. Are we--”

Bucky’s heart falls when Steve hands him a helmet. A bike helmet. That he got from the bike they’re currently standing in front of. 

“Ever ride on one of these?” 

The words tease Bucky’s ears, flicking and poking him, and when he goes to answer, he almost loses his grip on the helmet. 

“I… no.” Bucky shakes his head. “Is this what… are you serious?”

Steve chuckles. “Yes, I’m serious. We don’t have to take it if you’re uncomfortable, but, if you’re up for it…” 

Looking between the Harley and Steve, a few knots tie in Bucky’s stomach. Steve can be so quiet. A simple man, yes, but… there’s also just nothing simple about him at all. And Bucky’d like to see where Steve will take him. 

“All right, Sir.” Bucky starts to put the helmet on. “Show me what ya got.” 

“Yeah, okay there, buddy, let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” Steve stops him before the helmet’s half on. “You’re not even putting that on right. If you’re gonna ride with me, we’re gonna go over a few important things.”

For the first time since their night at the Armory, everything about Steve changes as the Dominant side of him begins to leak out. He doesn’t mean to do it, Bucky’s sure, but that doesn’t make Bucky melt any less under the thick layer of authority as Steve goes over those important things. Like the fact that he’ll get on first and then let Bucky use the peg as a step while using Steve’s arm for support. More importantly, Steve is sure to tell him to be sure to _wait until I give you the signal that I’m ready for you to mount_ , and god damn it, if he doesn’t stop talking like that, Bucky’s gonna drop to his knees right there on the spot. 

“Trust me,” Steve says after running over a few more things. “That’s probably most important of all. I promise, I’ll always take care of you, Bucky.” He fixes the sleeve of the rider’s jacket he’s making him wear. “But you have to _trust_ me. Okay?” 

Bucky knows that, right now, Steve is talking about the ride over to whatever restaurant he plans to take him to. He means trusting him with stopping and accelerating and turning. Right now, Bucky needs to trust Steve enough to wrap his arms around his waist and put his actual life in his hands. 

He’s so tired of making this decision. So tired of rushing in and making it too fast, too quick, and very wrong. But Steve makes it so difficult when he stands there waiting so patiently for an answer. As if totally willing to accept it if Bucky were to say hell no to all of this. He might actually ditch this crazy motorcycle plan and just ride the subway like a real Brooklynite. 

“Okay,” Bucky whispers, and isn’t sure exactly how much or how little that answer really means. 

The warmth that comes off of Steve is just like Bucky remembered. Even with the cool air whizzing by them. With his arms wrapped around Steve’s waist and he’s pressed against his body, Bucky just feels nice and toasty as Steve takes them to this surprise restaurant. It’s exhilaration. The world just a whirl of colors and blurs with each acceleration. Bucky’s stomach dropping in a mix of excitement and fear whenever Steve turns. That part of Steve -- whether it’s just the Dom in him or being a good biker or even both -- that checks in every now and then, looking for a thumb’s up. 

Honestly, Bucky wouldn’t really mind if this was the whole date. Whether easing through the crowded urban paths or escaping the city altogether and riding down long, starlit roads. Holding on to Steve. Trusting him. 

But eventually, Steve pulls over and turns the engine off. Bucky almost whines. Even has to hold back a request to just keep riding somewhere instead of going to dinner. Steve dismounts first, then helps Bucky off. And laughs when Bucky removes the helmet. 

“What’s that look for?” 

“Nothin’.” Bucky shrugs. “That was fun. I liked it.” 

Steve smiles, and brushes some stray hair away from Bucky’s face for him. 

“We can do it again some time,” he says. “And there’s still the ride back.” Steve holds his arm out. “Shall we?”

A big smile tugs at Bucky’s mouth as he nods and loops his arm with Steve’s. They head down the block together, other people passing them along the way. A few Doms with their subs on leashes, and Bucky’s exceedingly glad that’s a tradition that’s slowly fading out. Not that he minds so much about those who _want_ to use a collar and leash. But _want_ to and _have_ to are not the same thing. 

When they get into the place, the lobby is crammed packed. People are standing outside waiting to get in while others sit on cozy benches inside.

“Uh,” Bucky says. “I think we might have to go somewhere else.”

Steve gives him a wink and a smile, and then maneuvers his way up front to the hostess. 

“Hi,” he greets. Polite and pleasant, and Bucky swears he can see the young lady’s pupils double in size when she lays eyes on him. “I have reservations. Under Rogers.” 

Her mouth opens twice before she pushes her blonde hair behind her ear and Bucky catches a glimpse of steel bracelet on her wrist. A submissive. No doubt reacting to the natural Dominance that Steve exudes. 

Feeling rather possessive, and in no mood to watch another sub flirting with Steve, Bucky puts his metal hand on Steve’s bicep. Gives it a squeeze. Not that it matters. The hostess isn’t about to make a move on Steve. For one, that would be incredible tacky when he’s clearly here with someone. What’s more, it’s not a submissive’s place to approach a Dominant first. Or at least without an invitation to do so. 

“Let’s see,” the hostess says. Still with that same smile on her face. “Here we are. Steve Rogers. Table for two. Will you be needing any kneeling pillows, Mr. Rogers?” 

“No, that’s okay,” Steve answers. “Two chairs will be just fine.” 

“All right. Right this way.”

As he walks through the restaurant, Bucky feels like he’s stepped into a fairy tale. All the walls are made out of bookshelves-- _actual_ bookshelves with real books. The tables look like they’ve been carved out of wood, topped with glowing mason jars. Twinkling lights dangle from the ceiling.

“Here we go,” the hostess says when they reach their table. Right next to a wall of books. “Annie will be your server today and you can find our drink specials on the back of the menu--”

“There’s only one here,” Steve interrupts. 

She looks at him, blank and confused, before her eyebrows knit and she shakes her head.

“I’m sorry?” She tilts her head. “Only one what?”

“Menu.” Steve holds it up. “Would you please give one to my date?”

Face falling, she looks from the menu to the bracelet locked around Bucky’s wrist and back to Steve a few times. This isn’t something new to Bucky. He’s used to not being given a chance to look over a menu and instead having his Dom order for him. But it seems Steve has other plans in mind. 

“I…” The poor girl is so flabbergasted that only sounds come out of her mouth before any full sentence does. “I’m sorry, sir. It’s just… policy that…”

Steve nods. “Yes, I’m aware of what the policy is,” he says before she can finish. Matter-of-factly and straight to the point. “I’m not really concerned with this place’s policy or any other place’s policy for that matter. He and I are here as equals. My companion might be a registered submissive, but how do you know I’m not an unregistered sub myself? Or standard?”

Pft, right. Steve might not be aware of it at all, but any sub within earshot is probably ready to drop to their knees for him. Even the hostess’s cheeks are all red, and Steve is hardly yelling or being rude at all.

“I know this isn’t your fault, ma’am, I just don’t think it’s the world’s place to make assumptions about anyone. Now, if you wouldn’t mind,” Steve continues with a polite, yet firm grin, “please, get him a menu. If your manager would like a word, go ahead and point him in _my_ direction. I will assure him you did your job accordingly.” 

The hostess fumbles a bit before finally composing herself with a neat, courteous smile. She gives Steve a polite nod of her head and is able take a menu from a passing waiter and hand it over to Bucky. Before leaving, she takes a good look at Steve and gives him a warm smile. The way she thanks him before leaving… Bucky can tell it has nothing to do with customer service. 

“You didn’t have to do that,” Bucky murmurs once they’re alone and Steve’s eyes are scanning the menu. Bucky hasn’t even picked his up. “You could have just--”

The words fizzle and dry away when Steve’s eyes flick up to him. Bucky folds his lips in.

“I know,” Steve says. “But that’s not what tonight is about.”

“What is tonight about?” 

“Us. Outside of the Armory.” Steve reaches across the table and places a hand over Bucky’s. “I want to know you, Bucky. Not just as a submissive. As a person.” 

“Being a submissive is part of who I am, Steve.”

“A big part,” Steve agrees. “But I want to know everything. I want to know _you_ , Bucky. All of you. And I hope…” HIs eyes sweep down and don’t lift when he says, “I hope you feel the same about me. So that, maybe, and I don’t mean anytime soon if it’s too soon, we can talk about, uh, y’know, um…”

Bucky sits up straight, which pulls his hand away from Steve’s. The move might startle Steve. It is enough to get him to look back up. 

“Other… things?” Bucky finishes for him. “Like, maybe, a… Consideration Collar?” 

Eyes sparkling, the corners of Steve’s mouth twitch like he’s about break into a huge smile. Before he can, his face falls and he smothers it in the palms of his hand. 

“Oh my god, I shouldn’t’ve said that,” he mutters. “I’m sorry, it’s too soon, isn’t it? I can’t believe I’m that much of an… I won’t rush… I… I’m sorry, Bucky, I didn’t mean--”

“It’s okay, Steve,” he assures him. “You said it that night a few weeks ago, when I said yes then. I can think about my next answer after that.” Steve smiles at him. Warm and honeyed. Golden rays that kiss the corners of his mouth. “So. You dragged me all the way out here.” Bucky picks up his very own menu. “Let’s see what they got at this place.” 

Steve snorts and skims through his menu as well, commenting that the duck here is incredible. Making a face at the suggestion, Bucky says that’s gross, and Steve notes that he now knows that Bucky doesn’t like duck. Bucky rolls his eyes. 

What Bucky actually ends up ordering is the Bruschetta Chicken Pasta, a nice portion of fettuccine tossed in garlic, basil, and marinara sauce, and topped with breaded chicken breast. When the waiter comes over to take their orders, he does takes Steve’s first -- Cajun Shrimp and Chicken Pasta -- but doesn’t hesitate to turn and let Bucky order for himself rather than waiting for Steve order for him. The hostess, bless her, must have prepared him.

The food, like the scenery, it absolutely divine. Bucky would come back here everyday if he could. To top it off, their drinks come in mason jars like the ones glowing on the table, and as much as Bucky tries to hide it, he’s extraordinarily excited about that. 

Best of all, is the company. Other than a few minutes here or a half an hour there, they really haven’t seen much of each other. Sometimes Bucky’ll meet Steve at the diner when Steve gets off a shift or Steve’ll stop in at the bar for a drink on a night off, but they’ve spent more time on the phone together than in person. And this is so, so much better. 

“How’d you know I’d like this place?” Bucky asks in the middle of eating, twirling some pasta onto his fork and popping food into his mouth. “Lucky guess?”

At first, Bucky thinks maybe he’s insulted Steve since he’s stopped mid-chew and is just holding his drink like he’s frozen in place. An urge to apologize, to make amends and fix this, washes through Bucky, until Steve ducks his head down as a blush fills his cheeks. 

“No, uh, you said… that… night…” He’s still got his head down, but his cheeks burn hotter. “That night, you said how much you loved to read. And you liked fairy tales. You said you always dreamed of walking into a fairy tale.” Steve clears his throat. “This was the closest I could do.” 

Sunrise blooms in Bucky’s belly, warmth and light surging through his entire body. He has thought that. A silly, childhood fantasy of his. Of strolling through meadows with butterflies that can talk and stars during daytime and dragons and princes and knights in shining armor. Still.

Bucky racks his brain and thinks back on the past few weeks. He can’t recall having brought that up. Not once. 

“I told you that?” Bucky asks. “I don’t remember telling you that.”

“O-oh.” Steve’s face turns all red again, and Bucky’s really beginning to like that color on him. “Um. It. Uh. It was… y’know, not… recently?” 

Oh. _Oh_. 

Chuckling, Bucky picks up his drink and leans an elbow on the table. Eyebrows lifting, he gives Steve a haughty grin. 

“Are you embarrassed that you met me at the Armory, Sir?” 

“What?” Steve groans and rolls his eyes. “No. Of course not. I… oh, shut up, you know it’s not that. It’s just…”

“Just…?”

Steve polishes off the rest of his drink and swirls the ice around at the bottom of the glass. 

“Just… I’m… most of my shirts of paint on them.” 

All Bucky can do is blink. There really isn’t any other way to respond to that statement. In all honesty, he’s not even really sure what that even means other than Steve gets paint on his clothes. As if that’s some key to this mysterious puzzle. 

“Okay?”

“That’s just it, Bucky,” Steve says and then says the rest into his palms. “My clothes are a mess, and I wear them anyway, and I get paint behind my ears too and don’t realize it, and I’m a cop, for Christ’s sake, why would _any_ sub wanna be with me? How could they trust me?” He sighs and now looks up again. “And just _look_ at you! You’re just… everything about you is… you’re the prettiest, smartest, most glamorous person I’ve ever met, and I’m not someone who belongs at the Armory, Bucky, but you are. You should be among the rich and famous and all the finest things in the world. Not me and my messy clothes, and drinking beer and eating leftover pizza. In what world would someone like you ever want me?” 

It’s a good thing the lights in here are dim. The tears in Bucky’s eyes burn, but at least Steve can’t see them. As long as Bucky can keep them in check, they won’t fall. So far, so good. 

“Steve,” Bucky whispers, and has to clear his throat before saying anything. “I don’t… I mean. You have it all backwards. I’ve never even had a successful relationship. You’re the only Dom who’s ever…” 

Done any of this. Treated Bucky this way. Wanted to know him and not just the submissive. Bucky tries to say all of it, any of it, but can’t get a single word out. Maybe his eyes convey something. They must because Steve gives him a soft smile. Sighing, Steve almost chuckles as he scoops up Bucky’s hands and kisses his knuckles. 

“I was nervous, y’know,” he says. “About tonight. About what you would think. If I’d mess it all up. I don’t want to scare you away. I know you don’t believe some of the things I say.”

Bucky almost laughs. He does have him there. The whole _submission is a gift_ spiel and thinking Bucky’s potential to enter into a consensual slave contract beautiful. Plenty of Doms have tried it before. That’s the one line Bucky’s never fallen for. And he’s not gonna start now. No matter how genuine Steve sounds when he says it. 

“I like hearin’ ya say ‘em though,” Bucky murmurs. Shrugs one shoulder. Gives Steve a crooked grin. “Y’know. Just for shits and giggles.”

“Then I’ll say them everyday.” 

As sappy and ridiculous as that is, Bucky can’t help the smile that lights him up. He can feel it glowing through him, even as he twists his silver bracelet over his wrist for some sort of distraction. It doesn’t work. 

“Yeah, okay.” He holds back a giggle because there’s no reason to giggle. “Tell me something.” 

Steve leans back. “Tell you what?” 

“Something. Anything.” 

That’s how Bucky learns about Peggy. Or rather, _more_ about Peggy. Steve had talked about her that night at the Armory, but tonight, he tells him that they’d been friends for years first. They were both in the military, both the Army. Both had gone overseas. Steve for two tours, Peggy one.

It’d been after their honorable discharge that they decided to give a relationship a try. Steve says it was a great relationship. Probably the best he ever had. They loved each other -- still do, even if that love changed over time. 

They tried to make it work. Even did a good job of it. It was just their chemistry that didn’t fit. Peggy even suggested polyamory, which apparently Steve considered, but in the end decided -- much to Bucky’s relief -- wasn’t for him. 

She’s married now, which Bucky already knew. Married to a man named Gabe, a standard, while she has a sub, Angie. Who happens to be the very same owner of Bucky’s favorite diner. 

He also brings up Tony Stark and his two Doms. Bucky maintains that he was _not_ starstruck that night. Nope. He wasn’t. Steve insists he wasn’t and suggests they’ll just have to meet again to put it to the test. Bucky agrees with a smug grin and a tug of nerves at his belly. 

“What about you?” Steve asks as he slices into the piece of cheesecake he ordered for dessert. 

“What about me?” As for Bucky, he’s got himself chocolate mousse and it’s delicious. “What’d’ya mean?” 

“It’s your turn. You tell me something.”

Something. 

It’s not as though Bucky doesn’t have a slew of tales to share, they just don’t seem nearly as nice as any of Steve’s. 

He can tell him about how he met Clint after being homeless for a year. Sleeping in shelters or under park benches and turning tricks for a few bucks until this yellow lab slobbered all the last half of his sandwich one day. 

He can tell him about how he met Natasha just a year later when she and Sharon visited the Armory during Bucky’s first year working there. When he was offered his first collar there and he subbed for them both. 

He can tell him about the endless line of Asshole Doms that he’s had the displeasure of getting himself involved with. Over and over again. 

“My second Dom turned out to be a real traditionalist,” he settles on. Bucky’s not sure why he chooses this topic, the words just spill from his mouth. "Like, stuff that even most modern traditionalists probably don't even do. I didn't even think to put this stuff in a contract, cause, I mean, who the fuck would? I'm talkin' about shit that you see in movies that make you cringe."

Steve remains quiet, and might go to take another piece of cake, but instead just puts the fork down.

"He had me stay at home and, or, well, he wasn't the only one who did that, other Doms kept me at home, too, that's no big deal.” Bucky shrugs. “But this guy? This guy was into the no speaking unless spoken to and strict no eye contact rules and I was locked in a cage all the time. Not in... not in a cage cage, like a..." 

He doesn't need to expand on that for Steve to get that he means a cock cage. Not that there weren’t time he wasn’t kept in a normal cage as well but Bucky doesn’t feel up to telling Steve about that right now.

"Anyway, the cage and his collar were the only two things I was allowed to wear unless he said otherwise,” Bucky goes on to say. “I wasn't allowed on the furniture without permission but _sometimes_ , as a reward, I was allowed to sleep at the foot of his bed. I had see him off to work every morning in Kiss the Floor…”

It looks like Steve might go to say something, which wouldn’t be too surprising, not with what Bucky’s just told him. Kiss the Floor is an old position, one that’s mostly fallen out of use. Submissive on hands and knees, face lowered to the floor enough that their nose, or ideally lips, touch it. 

“Kiss the Floor?” is all Steve actually says. “He had you do that? In everyday use? Not just… in a scene?”

“Mm-mm.” Bucky shakes his head. “Everyday.” 

Steve’s face tightens, his eyes closing like he’s trying to hold back some tense emotion before he opens them again and exhales with a nod for Bucky to continue. His expression is open and calmer, waiting for Bucky to go on. 

“I, uh, I had to greet him the same way when he came home from work. Or when he came home from anywhere, really. When he came home, though, I wasn’t allowed to move out of position until he said I could. Sometimes he’d take his time letting me up; he’d make me wait, but he’d always call me and then pet me or even come by the door to get me himself. But this one time…

Throat tightening, Bucky cannot fathom why this is the story that he’s chosen to share. He’s never even told Clint or Nat this one. Now that he’s started telling Steve, he just can’t seem to stop. 

"It was near the end of our contract, only about nine days left. He must’ve known I wasn’t interested in renewing with him.” Bucky sighs and shakes his head, gaze at his lap. He says, mostly to himself, “There’s no way he didn’t know.” 

He looks back at Steve, who waits patiently, expression still soft and open and completely free of judgement. 

“He came home from work this night and I was in position, just like I was supposed to be. He came in and didn't even greet me. Should go without saying, he didn’t let me up, either. I can still remember the way my stomach dropped. I thought for sure I was in trouble for something." 

Bucky's voice shakes a little, dropping at the memory. 

“I could hear him in the kitchen eating dinner, which, until that night, he’d never eaten without me kneeling next to him, and then I heard him watching T.V. and getting ready for bed and _going_ to bed, and he _never_ called for me. I racked my mind for hours trying to come up with something that I could’ve done that might've upset him. He made me stay there all night." 

Bucky swallows the hard rock in his throat. "I think he was just testing me. Seeing if I'd move. Or maybe he wanted me to just for an excuse to punish me, I dunno." Bucky sits up a little straighter, tears stinging his eyes. "I never did move though. I kept my position all night long. In the morning, _fuck_ , I was so exhausted and hungry and was a mess, but I was still there when he was leaving for work. All he said was to go clean myself up, though. I still just… I just wanted to know if I was a good boy."

Steve, who's been completely silent this entire time, reaches across the table and places a hand over Bucky's wrist. The strength of Steve’s touch is almost startling, enough to send a shock through Bucky’s entire body. It's a firm touch. Almost claiming while still giving Bucky the option to pull free if he wanted. Bucky finds himself not wanting that so he leaves his hand right where it is. 

"You _are_ a good boy, Bucky," Steve murmurs. 

A breath gets caught in Bucky's throat. Not even his Dom then had said that. Heat rises from his belly and radiates all through his chest. If it was possible, he’d be sure sunlight would be shining out of his toes and fingertips. The whole place would be glowing with it. He wonders now if maybe he’s been waiting for that all this time.

"You were a good boy then,” Steve continues, “and he was a piece of shit. No one deserves to be treated that way, Bucky."

Pulling his hand out from under Steve’s, Bucky wipes the bit of moisture away from his eyes and sniffles. He looks up at Steve and offers a grin. 

“Can we get out of here, Sir?” he asks. 

Steve doesn’t even answer. He just raises his hand and asks for the check. 

***

“So, regular or decaf?”

Bucky, still standing in Steve’s living room, doesn’t quite understand the question. It’s a small place, Steve’s fourth floor apartment. Bigger than Bucky’s studio, smaller than Clint’s apartment below it. He likes the colors here. Nice, light shades of blue. Soft. Welcoming. 

They flow evenly into the pale yellows that are painted on the walls of the connecting kitchen. Where Steve is standing at the cabinets.

“Uh…” Bucky shakes his head. “What?”

Looking over his shoulder, Steve steps to the side a little and points to what he’s been looking at. Coffee. He’s asking about coffee. On the counter is a plain ol’ looking coffee maker. Not even one of those pod coffee makers. 

“I’ve got different flavors, too,” Steve says, probably since Bucky still hasn’t answered. “If you want. I have French Vanilla and Toasted Chestnut… and, uh, and that’s it.”

Bucky has to hold back a laugh. He might not have much experience in romantic dates, but he has been out before. Random hookups and casual flings. So he’s been asked up to someone’s place for coffee. This is just the first time someone’s _meant_ for actual coffee. 

A part of Bucky is charmed. Steve is such a gentleman, it’s adorable. On the other hand, Bucky had been hoping to maybe scene again. Tonight. Now he’s not so sure if that’s even a possibility. Or if maybe it’s his fault. 

He hadn’t been sure if this little date would even continue after Steve -- and only Steve, that was his insistence -- paid their bill. Bucky was worried that maybe his depressing story had ruined the rest of the night. If it had, he’d kick himself over and over for telling it. 

_That_ story. What the hell was he even thinking? Of all the things he could have told, Bucky chose that one. He _does_ have nice ones. Happy ones. Like being Natasha’s best man at her and Sharon’s wedding or camping with the Barton family. 

But when Bucky questioned whether or not his story had ruined the night, Steve, who had been helping Bucky put on the bike helmet again, stopped and gave him a confused look. 

“What?” he asked. Stepped back and cupped Bucky’s chin, softly. “Of course not. I told you, Bucky, I want to know all of you. Everything. Not all those stories are gonna be pretty. Neither are mine.”

Steve didn’t have to say any more than that. Though Bucky might be reluctant to just hand out his trust and want to be careful, he believed that much. Enough, anyway, that Steve wasn’t ready to end their date.

So when Steve made his invitation to go back to his place for coffee, Bucky smiled and accepted. 

Of course, he never expected that coffee meant coffee and wasn’t code for a scene or just sex. 

“Bucky?”

Eyes flicking up and over to the shelves where Steve’s coffee is, Bucky shakes his thoughts back to where he is and takes a few steps closer. That’s right. Coffee. Steve is asking him about coffee. He’s not even really looking at the options in front of him. 

“Um. Regular. Regular is fine.” 

Offering a smile, Steve starts getting things ready to make their coffee. He chats away as he does. Happily. But Bucky’s not able to pay too much attention to what he’s saying since he’s too busy watching him making the coffee. 

He likes watching Steve work. His arms are so thick, almost flexing even just when he scoops grinds into the maker. The way his hands move make Bucky’s mouth dry. Bucky should really stop watching so closely. All he can imagine is those hands all over him. Touching him. Spanking him. Holding him down…

Bucky smothers his face in the palms of his hands. These are things he should not be thinking. No, no, no. If he doesn’t get a hold of himself, Steve’s gonna definitely know he’s got a lot more than coffee on his mind.

Over by the counter, two mugs gently clink together as the coffee maker drips. Steve is still talking. Bucky catches a bit of what he’s saying now. Something about baseball and the fire department and he’s sure it’ll be great. 

“So, anyway,” Steve says, as he pours coffee into the two mugs he got down. “It’s next Saturday. I was thinking maybe, I dunno...” He turns with the two full glasses and gives Bucky something of a nervous grin. “Maybe, do you wanna stop by?”

Bucky shakes his head, surprised at a sudden invitation when he has no idea where he’s even being invited. He’s stomach knots, but he can really only give one answer.

“Um… stop by where?”

Already sitting, and having pulled out a chair for Bucky as well, Steve looks up at him, confused and puzzled. Eyebrows knit, Steve opens his mouth twice before any words come out. He even tilts his head, looking at Bucky like he either wants to laugh or interrogate him. 

“Uh, the baseball game between the police and fire departments?” he answers. “The one I’ve been talking about this whole time?”

“Oh.” _Damn it, Barnes, wake up and pay attention._ “Right. Uh--”

“You don’t have to stand over there,” Steve says. “You can come sit.” He holds his hand up before Bucky has a chance to do anything. “That’s… that’s not an order or anything. You can do whatever you want.”

There’s a twitch of a smile at the corner of Bucky’s mouth as he takes the few steps forward towards the table. It’s not a big table. Square. Just large enough to fit four people for a decently sized meal. 

“I’m sorry,” Bucky says after his first sip of some pretty decent coffee. Probably better than whatever sludge he’s seen down at the precinct Steve works at. 

Busy stirring his own coffee, Steve looks up, possibly startled by the apology. 

“What’re you sorry for?”

Bucky shrugs. “Nothin’ really. I wasn’t really payin’ to you attention though.”

Chuckling into his mug, Steve’s eyes sparkle like it makes not one bit of difference. 

“I noticed,” he says. “What had you so distracted?” He looks just a little worried now. “Did you… do you wanna go? It’s okay if you do, I’ll take you home. Or if you wanna just leave, that’s…”

“I don’t wanna go, Sir,” Bucky interrupts. Grins. “And it was you.” 

“Me?” Steve glances around as though Bucky’s accused him of something horrible. “What was me? What’d I do?”

Bucky’s grin turns saucy. “Distracted me. You have only yourself to blame.” 

A blush runs all the way up to the tips of Steve’s ears, though it looks very much as if he’d like to respond. It takes him a second or two, but when he recovers from that initial burning blush, he sighs with a shake of his head and then smirks. 

“Any particular way I distracted you?” He shrugs. “You know, this way I can avoid it in the future.” 

Bucky returns the smirk. Says, “Only if you make it an order.” 

Steve never does make it an order. He never makes anything an order. Not during the hour and a half they sit there talking over two cups of coffee each. He never once brings up scening or having any type of sex or makes any indication he wants to do anything other than drink coffee and talk, and Bucky’s ready to burst.

Maybe Steve isn’t into most traditions, but making a move on a Dominant just feels too wrong. So when Steve comments on the late hour and suggests that it might be time to get going, Bucky figures he shouldn’t really argue. 

“Uh, yeah,” he says. “Yeah, okay.” 

“I hope you had a good time,” Steve says as he washes out the mugs. “I’m so glad you came out with me, Bucky.” 

Hoping to make himself at least a little bit useful, Bucky gets up so he can dry. There’s a dish towel right on the counter. Bucky grabs it and holds his hand out for the mug. Looks like he might startle Steve a little, but he grins and hands it over. 

“Yeah, I… I had a really good time.” Bucky smiles. “Thanks for taking me out on a real date, Sir. And for the flowers.” 

Steve smiles as he runs the sponge in the second mug. The one that Bucky had been using. 

“Hey, if I was taking you out, I was taking you out right.” 

He doesn’t let Bucky dry that mug. Instead, Steve playfully snatches the towel away to do it himself. 

“Anyway,” Steve murmurs, tucking a piece of hair behind Bucky’s ear. The touch of Steve’s hand to his skin makes Bucky shiver. “Thank you for the pleasure, Bucky.”

“Thank you for the coffee.”

They stand there in the kitchen for a few moments, each just staring at each other, neither of them ever actually moving for the door. Something changes in Steve’s expression. A subtle shift that darkens his eyes. His tongue running gently across his lip for just a second. The way his breathing slows. 

Every emotion of the night -- hell, the past few weeks of talking and waiting and fantasizing -- curls around all of Bucky’s muscles. They rush right to his cock and when he opens his mouth, nothing but a whimper comes out. 

A smirk tugs at the corner of Steve’s mouth. He reaches out and slowly slips his hand against the side of Bucky’s neck. Goosebumps raise all over Bucky’s skin, the fine hairs on the back of his neck lifting with them. A chill slithers down his spine. Makes his limbs shiver. He needs a second to catch his breath. 

“You okay?” Steve murmurs. “Hm?”

Steve leans in close enough that their brows are almost touching. Bucky ends up crashing against the counter with both of Steve’s arms caging him in the spot. The heat coming from Steve’s body is overwhelming, coating Bucky in a warm blanket dripping with Dominance. He longs so badly to put his hands somewhere on him but doesn’t dare without permission. Bucky can’t even bring himself to flick his eyes up.

“I… I…” Bucky clears his throat. Finds it on fire, the flames dancing all the way up to his mouth. “I’m fine. I just…”

Just what? 

Bucky just wants to drop to his knees and beg Steve to do all the things he did to him at the Armory and more. To pull him over his lap and spank him until he can’t stand it. To tie him up and use his body as Steve’s own little toy until Bucky’s completely spent. To open him up and push inside so that Bucky can finally feel Steve inside of him. 

Steve moves ever so slightly. Just enough so that his mouth nears Bucky’s ear.

He murmurs, heated, slow, “Maybe you want a little _more_ than just coffee, hm?” 

Gaze flying up, a breath is punched right out of Bucky’s lungs. The room is spinning around him, the world unbalanced beneath his feet. 

“You… you…” The night holds its breath as it waits for Bucky to come out and say it. “You did this on purpose…” 

He did. Bucky can see it on his face, in his eyes, in the curl of his smirk. Steve had planned this entire thing. Bringing him back up here for coffee and leading him to believe it was for _just_ coffee when he _did_ have other things in mind.

Hissing a snicker, Steve focuses on his eyes and somehow leans in impossibly closer without actually touching him any more than the hand at his neck. 

“I have a few tricks up my sleeve,” he admits. “I’m pretty sure you need a bit of release. I could see it on you the second I turned around with the coffee. Or at least, I thought I did. I’m pretty sure now that I was right.” Steve’s voice drops a little more. “Was I, little sub?” 

Bucky’s mouth drops open, his eyes slamming closed as he tries to keep himself together. 

“Yes,” Bucky whispers. “Yes, Sir. _Please_ , Sir.”

When Steve moves away, Bucky has to keep himself from not pleading with him to stay, to not move even an inch away from him. Completely ridiculous, of course, but Bucky manages to keep it down anyway. 

“You want my collar for tonight, Bucky?” he asks. “A Scene Collar? Would you like to scene with me?” 

Golden sparkles rain down upon him at the offer. Steve wants to scene with him again. Bucky might just come from that alone. 

“Yes.” He nods. Quick and urgent, and if Steve doesn’t hurry, he might start to cry. “Yes, yes. I do.”

Steve gives him a very pointed look. Meaningful. Whatever it is he’s going to say next is something is important. He even takes hold of Bucky’s chin and keeps him still. 

“You can call me _Sir_ now, little sub,” he orders. “Understand?” 

The chill that washes over Bucky is delicious. He can taste it as it runs across his tongue. Like cool honey. Sweet and sugary and thick. 

“Yes, Sir,” he answers. Eyes on Steve. His temporary Dominant once again.

“You have too much on,” Steve says. “You’ve had too much on all night long.” His fingers curl in between the folds of Bucky’s button down and Bucky slams his eyes closed as Steve gives a testing tug. “Red or green?”

Heart pounding, Bucky’s eyes fly back open. “Sir?” 

“Red?” Steve, smirk curved up on his face, gives another slight tug against the buttons of Bucky’s shirt. “Or green?” 

Asking first. Because he knows nothing about the shirt. Maybe it’s important to Bucky. It could be the only button down he has. Or have some sort of sentimental value. Hell, it might not even be his. 

More importantly, right now Steve is checking whether or not it’s okay to do this even though Bucky’s consented to being his sub for the night. Or at least a scene. They’ve even talked in greater length about Bucky’s limits over these few weeks and Steve is _still_ pausing to ask. 

If Steve doesn’t cut this shit out, Bucky going to fall in love with him. No doubt about it.

“Green,” he whispers. “Green, Sir--”

Before Bucky can even start the second _green_ Steve is ripping the shirt off of him. Buttons fly in every direction, hitting the floor like drops of rain that desperately needed to be freed from the cloud. 

Tearing the shirt away, Steve dives in and starts sucking the fine, sensitive skin at Bucky’s neck. Moving up and down and across his throat so that Bucky has to tilt his chin up. But when Bucky makes any attempts to put his hands on Steve -- on his hips, on his shoulders, on his neck -- Steve swats him away. 

On the fourth or fifth try, Bucky lets out something between a muffled groan and whine. Steve, mouth still pressed against Bucky’s neck, chuckles. 

“Please?” Bucky asks. “Sir, please, can I touch you?” 

“Mm-mm.” Steve shakes his head. Let’s the tip of his nose skim up to the back of Bucky’s ear. “Not yet.” 

A whine catches in Bucky’s throat. “Why not?” 

Bucky gasps, horrified at himself. That’s completely inappropriate submissive behavior. Steve hasn’t explicitly told him he can act like that. Playful bouts of indiscretions. The bratty role. Sometimes breaking silly rules put in place just for the sole purpose of getting punished. Rules that are meant to be broken. Funishment, so to speak. 

But Steve simply pulls away just enough so he can look at Bucky with a cute little smirk. Before Bucky can say anything, Steve presses a gentle kiss to his forehead, and Bucky wonders if he understands. 

“Because,” he says when he looks at Bucky again, now answering the question. “I like the way you look, all needy and ready to burst just wanting to put your hands all over me.” Steve runs his index finger down to the tip of Bucky’s nose and taps it. “Besides, you’re gonna be a good boy for me, aren’t you?” 

He moves that same fingers and traces Bucky’s lips. Bucky shivers, his lips parting for his Dominant. He longs terribly to suck on Steve’s finger. To pull it into his mouth and be allowed the courtesy of getting lost in the soft, gentle suckles and the tastes of Steve soft skin. 

Steve, of course, just teases for a moment longer. Even brushing the tip of his finger against Bucky’s tongue before pulling it out again.

“Isn’t that right, Bucky?” Steve asks. “You wanna be my good boy.” 

“Yes,” Bucky whispers. Good, _god_ , yes. “Yes, Sir. I wanna be your good boy.” 

“Mm.” Steve takes another step back and it takes all of Bucky’s will power not beg him to come back. “You’re still wearing too much.” He gestures at Bucky’s pants with his finger. “Take ‘em off.”

Bucky barely even remembers taking his pants off and tossing them with his discarded shirt, but the next thing he knows, Steve’s hand is on his shoulder, keeping him from taking off his underwear. The lacey red panties his slipped on since Steve’d seemed so fond of the black ones he wore at the Armory. 

Again, Steve bites down on his lip and smiles. Impressed, it would seem, at Bucky choice of undergarments. Bucky warms with a blush. 

“So pretty,” he says, softly. Hooks his finger on the inside of the brim Bucky’s panties. He pulls and lets the elastic snap back. “Leave these on.” Steve leans in and breathes, right into Bucky’s ear, “One of these days, I’m gonna push you down on your knees, little sub. Make you crawl on all fours.” Bucky’s almost goes weak at the knees already. “But for now, follow me.” 

He turns and heads around the hall to the right of the kitchen. Bucky doesn’t hesitate and immediately follows Steve into his bedroom. Which is a little underwhelming. 

Really, that shouldn’t be so surprising. This is only a one bedroom apartment. There isn’t all that much room for a playroom let alone much equipment. 

The room is carpeted. Soft and comfortable under Bucky’s feet. Happy to have him. Like the walls out in the living room and kitchen, these walls are brightly colored. A soft, cream color. It offsets the wooden armoire on the far side of the room. And the dresser Bucky’s standing next to. There’re even three antique looking chests by the closet door, piled up in size order.

One window has nice curtains that could probably use a washing. The blinds are almost all the way down. The other window, the one next to Steve’s bed, has a blackout curtain covering it completely. Bucky would think it was because Steve doesn’t want the sun to dance on in every morning, but he told him earlier that he gets up for an early run in Prospect Park just a few blocks away whenever he can. 

Steve does have a nice four poster bed though. Sturdy. Complete with upper panels around the posts. The metal rings -- good for tying and bondage -- that are screwed to the tops of each of the posts are the only things that would even make anyone believe any play might take place in here at all. There’s a padded, leather ottoman at the foot of Steve’s bed. Nothing fancy, but always a good place for a spanking. Anything will be fine with Bucky. A good thrashing, a spanking, some hair-pulling. Hell, Bucky will just take some nice petting. 

“In the middle of the room,” Steve tells him. “Above Your Head, Kneeling.”

Bucky nods and does as he’s told. Lowers himself to his knees, the carpet taking his weight so very kindly, and locks his hands over his head. Steve hasn’t asked him to raise himself up, so Bucky lets his weight rest back on his ankles as Steve moves about the room, first going to his armoire.

When he opens the doors, Bucky gasps. He shouldn’t be all _that_ surprised to see that it’s filled with toys and supplies. Floggers and whips and paddles -- all shapes and sizes -- hooked on the doors. Ropes and scarves and cuffs on the shelves. Candles. Vibrators. Dildos. Lube and condoms. Gags. Clothes, maybe for roleplaying. Safety shears. And that’s just what Bucky can see. 

Steve chuckles. “What? You didn’t think I had _nothing_ , did you?”

“N-No, I just…” Bucky shakes his head. “It’s just…”

“I told you, I have a few tricks up my sleeve.”

That’s all he says before winking and turning back to the armoire. Steve reaches for something. What, Bucky can’t see. Not even when Steve turns, since he keeps it out of sight as he comes closer.

“Present,” Steve says when he stops in front of him. 

The command hits Bucky with perfect accuracy. He doesn’t need to be shown what Steve has in his hand. He knows. Bucky lifts his chin.

“This is yours tonight, my pretty little sub,” Steve tells him as he slips a collar around Bucky’s neck. The very same one he wore the last time. Steve’s collar. Bucky’s tonight. “You’re mine now. And I take care of what’s mine. Basic traffic lights. Peace sign or hum the National Anthem if your mouth is full. If I say you’ve had enough, you’ve had enough. Understand?”

The collar is officially buckled. It sits comfortably around Bucky’s neck, the o-ring hanging just where his clavicles meet. He belongs to Steve know. And nothing could be better. 

“Yes, Sir,” he answers, looking up at Steve from his knee, the most powerful place in the world. “I understand.”

For a few seconds, Steve just stares at him, his eyes roaming over his body. Bucky’s still in the same position Steve’s ordered him in, so when Steve hooks his finger through the ring of the collar he rocks a little off-balance, but just as Steve promised, he takes care of him. Doesn’t let him fall even a little. 

“I’m going to kiss you, Bucky,” Steve murmurs. “Red or green?”

“Green, Sir,” Bucky breathes. “Oh, green…”

Steve does all the work for him. He moves in and feathers a kiss to Bucky’s mouth, denying even himself, Bucky thinks. Even he scrunches his face when he pulls away, but chuckles a bit breathlessly when Bucky whines. 

“Up,” Steve orders, tugging on the collar to bring Bucky to his feet. “On the bed. Hands in your lap. No touching.” 

Bucky’s arousal pushes against the lace of the panties, trying so hard to get out. Over by the armoire, Steve gets out the supplies he intends to use. Each item Bucky catches a glimpse of just makes him more and more crazed. Rope. Lube. A vibrator. A cockring. A spreader bar, holy shit. 

The spreader is for his thighs, pushing them apart just enough that there’s a strain. Steve has Bucky standing and leaning over the bed when he put it on him. Once it’s locked in place, he can feel Steve take a step back and then slowly move the panties out of his way. A rush of embarrassment gushes through Bucky and he buries his face in the blankets and mattress. All the lights are on and in his position he’s completely open and on display, and Steve is just… looking. The humiliation runs right to his cock. 

Steve’s hand sneaks into Bucky’s panties and gives his tesisticles a nice, just-on-the-right-side-of-hard fondle. Hands clenching into the blankets, Bucky grunts and groans. Easing his hand out, Steve shocks the hell out of him when his hand is suddenly leaving a fire across his ass, the sound of the slap echoing in Bucky’s ears. 

Bucky leaps up with a yelp, his cock rubbing against the bed, and then falls against the mattress, out of breath and trembling. 

Behind him, Steve chuckles and gives his back a soothing rub. “Calm down, little sub. We haven’t even started yet.” 

After a few deep breaths, Bucky nods and Steve gets started again. This time with the rope. Another thing they’ve talked about, so Steve knows it’s okay. Yes, Bucky’s had experience with not only rope, but also Shibari. And apparently Steve knows some pretty neat tricks in that area. 

“It was my favorite,” he told him, “in school. So artistic. I wanted to learn everything about it.” 

It’s paid off. Because the ropes move like grass in the wind under Steve’s influence. Easily going around Bucky’s body. Around his torso. By his crotch. They criss cross at his thighs and Steve is sure to lift Bucky’s arms above his head, bending them back at the elbows. He starts winding the ropes around them in such a way that Bucky won’t be able pull his arms back down. 

Steve is silent while working. Deep in concentration. Bucky doesn’t say a word either, not wanting to disturb him. Besides, he likes watching him work. Just like back in the kitchen, everything Steve does is beautiful. The way he flows from one thing to the next. Those deep blue eyes just so focused on the task at hand. And those hands. Big, strong hands. 

One of which may or may not have just dug into Bucky’s side that caused him to yelp a giggle and jerk away.

“Hold still,” Steve says, hand on Bucky’s hip, and now Bucky can’t even be sure if anything happened. 

Steve is still engrossed in what he’s doing. It doesn’t even look like he’s stopped for a second. Maybe the rope tickled him.

“I…” Bucky nods. “Yes, Sir.” 

Clearing his throat, Bucky takes in another deep breath and tries to keep himself as still as possible so that Steve can finish. But before he can, Bucky’s tickled again. This time, when he gasps and jerks about, he sees the smirk on Steve’s face. 

“Stay _still_ ,” Steve instructs again.

“But I…” Bucky’s mouth drops open. “I’m trying! You’re tickling me!” 

Eyebrows flicking up, Steve gives him a doubtful look. “Oh, it’s _my_ fault you can’t stand still? You’re blaming me when all you have to do is stand there and I’m doing all the work?” 

Bucky crushes his jaw. And Steve says _he’s_ the handful? This guy is a freaking troll. A wolf in sheep’s clothing. A charlatan. A total con artist. And any other cliche that might fit the bill. 

“No, _Sir_.”

“Mm, I didn’t think so.”

Now that Steve’s done tying the ropes around Bucky’s arms and restraining his hands behind his head, he takes hold of the rope crossing in front of his chest and lowers him down to the bed. With a gentle push, Steve knocks him to his back, and the spreader bar between his thighs makes it a tad more uncomfortable that it should normally would be. 

Steve slips rope through the rings attached to each cuff of the spreader bar and then up to the rings high on the posts of his bed. He pulls. And slowly begins to lift Bucky’s ass up in the air. Because of the rest of the rope -- the harness around the rest of Bucky’s body -- there’s virtually no strain on him. Nothing that requires an immediate stop, anyway. Steve, when he’s satisfied with how high he’s lifted Bucky’s backside off the bed -- is even kind enough to knot Bucky’s ankles and loop the rope to the posts, too. Bucky doesn’t have to hold any of his weight. 

When he’s completely done, Steve steps back and admired his handy work. Bucky can’t help but close his eyes. Turn his head the other way. 

Sometimes, he just doesn’t understand himself. Okay, Bucky doesn’t understand himself a lot, but this one is just strange. There’s nothing about his body that he finds embarrassing. In fact, he loves it. He works hard at maintaining it. Keeping it in shape. Even where metal meets flesh. Bucky did a lot of rehabilitation after his accident, so damn right he’s proud of his body. 

And yet when he’s all posed out like this, spread and open and on display, shyness creeps in. Whether in front of just one person like Steve now or a whole lot, when Bucky’s forced to notice the attention on him, the flush of humiliation runs right through his whole body, pooling between his legs. 

Which is probably Steve’s intention when he takes a grip in Bucky’s hair and forces his head back the other way. 

“Open your eyes, little sub,” he tells him. “I wanna look at you.” 

Bucky whines and pries his eyes open. Looks right into Steve’s eyes and whines again. Smiling, Steve drops down next to him as though having someone all tied up in his bed is as casual a sitting next to a friend at dinner. Propped up on his elbow, Steve traces circles around Bucky’s belly button. 

“So.” Steve drums his fingers over Bucky’s stomach. “You have a choice. Gag or no gag?” 

“I… um…” Bucky tries to unscramble his mind, the unexpected choice catching him completely off guard. “I’m not--”

Steve holds three fingers up. 

“You have three seconds to decide,” he says. “1… 2…”

“No gag!” Bucky exclaims. “No gag, Sir.”

Grinning, Steve lets his elbow fall out from under him and he just lays there next to Bucky. Looks at him like they’ve just collapsed into bed together. 

“You can yell pretty much as loud as you want,” he explains. “You won’t bother the neighbors; the room is mostly sound proof. I’ve already texted Sam to check in every hour.” Steve presses the end of one of the ropes against the back of Bucky’s hand and lays it perfectly within reach should he need to grab it. “Pull you need to come undone for any reason.” 

Steve waits until Bucky nods before sitting up again. His hand slides over Bucky’s crotch. Rubbing at Bucky’s cock through the panties. Bucky tilts his hips up. Tries to, anyway, in an attempt to get more friction. It’s incredibly difficult with his hips already raised up in the air. 

“Sir, please…” Bucky tries to get more again as Steve rubs his hand over the fabric. “Oh, please… more…” 

“You’ll get more.” Steve chuckles and takes his head away. He lowers the panties just enough that he can the nail of his thumb over the slit of Bucky’s cock. “But first.”

But first means lowering the panties enough to stretch the rubber cockring over his dick. The second it is Bucky grunts and whines and lifts his head up just enough to see his cock all trapped and still stuffed in red and lace. 

The lube that Steve got out before smells like strawberries -- Bucky can smell it when he squirts it onto his fingers. Funny, that’s Bucky’s favorite fruit. He wonders if he told Steve that at some point. He really wouldn’t be surprised if that was the reason Steve’s using this particular bottle. There were several others in there. 

Not that Bucky gives a damn fuck about the scent of the lube once Steve’s finger starts teasing around his hole. Giving a gentle push without actually seeking entry. 

Bucky’s not sure how long that goes on for -- Steve’s merciless teasing -- but it’s enough to get him trembling and biting down on his lip and to get beads of sweat to start dripping down the side of his head. It’s almost maddening. Steve’s right there, giving him just a taste and nothing more than that, so when that finger is suddenly easing into him, Bucky can’t hold back the shout. 

“Oh, _fuck_!” Bucky exclaims, his body swinging against the ropes. “Oh, god, Sir…”

Hand grabbing onto the harness around Bucky’s body to hold him still, Steve snickers and pushes his finger in more. As badly as Bucky wishes he could push back against Steve’s hands, the restraints and position make that impossible. 

“You wanted more, little sub,” he says. “You’re gonna get it.” 

Bucky groans as Steve’s fingering goes on, his own fingers digging into his hair and head rocking back and forth as Steve adds another. The stretch burns just slightly. Wonderfully. Steve pushes in and out. Slowly. Then slower, maddening Bucky even more. 

Breathless and with nothing to do but squim and take it, Bucky pants and holds in the words he’s desperate to shout out to a room of dizzying torment until Steve curls and drags his fingers. Once. Twice. And the stars that light up behind Bucky’s eyes burn through his whole body. 

“Ah.” Steve hums. Proud. “I found it.” 

“Sir!” 

Bucky screams it. He’s not sure why. He has nothing else to say. Nothing else he can ask for anyway since Steve doesn’t seem interested in stopping at all. He just goes on to do that over and over again until all Bucky _can_ do is scream. 

His feet kick. He tries to thrash around, mind lost to the pleasure that shoots through him every time Steve scrapes those magic fingers of his across that buried spot. By the time Steve stops, he’s worked up to three fingers and there’s drool at the corner of Bucky’s mouth and Bucky’s right on the verge of needing to come. Again. 

He’s lost count of how many times he’s asked Steve. For all he knows it’s been a hundred. Bucky doubts it’s actually been _that_ many, but it certainly feels it. All he knows is that his entire body burns with the need for the release that only Steve can provide. The relief he keeps denying every time Bucky pleads for permission. 

Whimpering when Steve actually draws his fingers out all the way, Bucky takes the chance to catch his breath. He’s dripping with sweat. His eyes are closed. And he’s pretty sure they’re just getting started. 

“You have a nice set of lungs there, don’t you?”

Cheeks burning, Bucky would hide if he could. Opening his eyes slowly -- and only partially -- Bucky sees Steve grinning down at him. 

Bucky wants to respond with some smart ass answer. Just a couple of words that will make Steve give him that look he gave him when they first met at The Armory. Like Bucky could both get under his skin and into his pants with the same line. 

But all the comes out, weak and shaky, is, “I need to come, Sir.” 

His cock is just throbbing. Full and aching -- even more because of the cockring -- a pulse between his legs that refuses to be ignored. All from Steve’s fingering.

“You need?” Steve repeats. “Or you want?”

Tears build in Bucky’s eyes, his lower lip trembling. It’s pitiful, yes, but he knows what that means. 

“I… I want, Sir.” 

“Yeah,” he replies. Presses the tip of his finger to the slit of Bucky’s cock, sending electricity crawling up Bucky’s spine. “That’s what I thought.” 

Bucky shudders, his toes curling and teeth clenching. He closes his eyes, waiting for more of Steve’s merciless teasing. Only instead of pushing any fingers in, Steve starts slicking up a vibrating plug. It’s not the thickest Bucky’s ever seen, but he knows he’ll feel it once Steve gets it in there. And if Steve gets it just right…

“Oh god…” Bucky whines when Steve starts sliding it on in. “Oh, it’s gonna…”

There’s that smirk on Steve’s face again, and how can this be the same guy Bucky spent their first bit of time together at The Armory irritating? How could Bucky’ve ever, _ever_ , underestimated him? Then? Now? 

The second the plug turns on, Bucky lets out a groan and a moan and a cry all rolled into one. Just as he guessed, the plug rests right up against his prostate, never let up even on the light setting unless Steve turns it off. Which he doesn’t seem too keen on doing at the moment. 

In fact, all Steve does, after getting the plug in and fixing Bucky’s panties so they’re all nice and tidy and in place, is put wrist strap for the remote of the plug in Bucky’s mouth. 

“Don’t you drop that, little sub,” he instructs, pressing the button once to turn the intensity up. “Just relax.” Steve’s fingers roll over one of Bucky’s nipples. Bucky’s eyes roll back. “Feel good?”

“Mmm…” Bucky sucks in a deep breath. “Mhm.”

Unadulterated _want_ curls around Bucky’s bones. Golden lust trickling through his body when Steve turns the vibrations up again. He melts into the bed. The part of his body that’s on it, anyway. The other half that’s lifted up fades into the vibrations that are leading towards the eruption just waiting to happen. 

As soon as Steve lets him. Once those words fall from his lips. All Bucky needs is the permission. If he can last that long. 

“ _Oh_ …” Bucky whines around the strap in his mouth. “Oh, _please_ , Sir…” 

“You wanna come, little sub?”

“Yes!” Bucky cries out. Almost loses his thoughts and lets the remote fall from his grip. “Yes, Sir! _Please_ , Sir!” 

But Bucky doesn’t get the permission to come. He doesn’t get the release he’s so desperate to have, his body pulled so taut and needing to spring back he might actually break if it doesn’t. 

What he gets instead is a trail of fire across his ass. A quick and abrupt blaze that burns right down through layers of skin and makes Bucky scream so loud that his head spins.

“ _Holy fuck_!” he cries. Out of breath. Dizzy. Shaking. “What… what the… fuck…” 

Caught so off guard by the sudden change in sensation, it takes Bucky a second to realize that Steve is there, dragging the tresses of a braided Cat o’ Nine Tails across his chest. No wonder. That thing stings like crazy. Bucky’s not sure which makes him cry more. That or that cane. Probably depends on who’s using it and how. 

“You dropped it.”

Steve’s voice pulls Bucky’s mind from the fog he didn’t even realize started rolling in. A thin, light layer. Just beginning to hover over the ground. 

“I… dropped what, Sir?” 

Steve lifts his hand. The remote for the butt plug is dangling from his fingers by the wristband. The one Bucky was meant to keep in his mouth. 

Uh oh. 

“I-I’m… I’m sorry, Sir.” Bucky gulps when Steve swings the remote up into his grip. “It was… it was just an accident, Sir, I _swear_.” 

“Mhm.” Nodding, Steve flicks the button up all the way. At the same time, he pushes the plug against Bucky’s prostate even more, and when Bucky shrieks, Steve says, “Don’t even think about it, little sub.” 

But he is thinking about it. Bucky is thinking about it and he wants to shout his thanks to every heaven for bringing this amazing Dominant to him. Whether he ever really gets to be his or not, his experience will Steve will forever be incredible. Romantic, sensual, sexual… everything… 

“Sir…” Bucky pants. “Sir… please… please… Sir… please…” 

“Please what, baby?”

Steve’s voice is softer now. Losing a bit of that edge as though skirting on the line of ready to continue and ready to end if necessary. Bucky by no means wants this to end, good god no, he’s near ready to float away to uncharted territory. Thing is, he’s not even sure what he’s calling Steve for. What he’s asking for. Not until he’s looking into his eyes. So soft and understanding, yet still strong and in complete control. And suddenly, Bucky knows exactly what he wants. 

“A kiss?” he breathes. “Please?”

First, Bucky gets a deep, meaningful look. Then a soft nod before Steve leans down and just brushes his lips against Bucky’s. No more, no less. 

When he pulls away again, Steve gives him a crooked grin and strokes the side of his face. 

“If you’re a good boy,” he says, and Bucky’s ready to agree to anything, “you’ll get more kisses.” Steve holds the cat tails whip up again. “Count for me, little sub.”

Steve gives him no warning other than that. The tresses bite his ass fast and hard, the knotted tails stinging so fiercely Bucky lets out another shriek. He can already feel his skin swelling. Pulsing. Burning. 

Body shaking and breaths backing up on him, it takes all of his concentration to remember what he’s supposed to do.

“O-one…” he whimpers. 

The second, the _instant_ , the number falls from his lips, the whip is lashing out at him again. Bucky has to smother down a sob, the fire sinking into his skin and smoldering into a perfect sensation of pleasure that brings back that layer of fog. Something Bucky finds himself quickly getting lost in. 

“Two,” Bucky cries and again gets another two right away. “Oh, god… three- _shit,_ four!”

Expecting number four to come just the same as the first three, Bucky is tense as he waits. When it doesn’t come, and Bucky can’t see Steve anywhere, the anticipation has him shivering and crying -- searching as best he can with such limited movement. 

“Oh _fuck_!” he exclaims when Steve he gets hit again, this time by Steve’s palm. “Shit… mmm… oh my god…” 

“I can’t hear a number, little sub,” Steve reprimands. “We’re gonna start all over again if--”

“Five!” Bucky shakes his head back and forth. “Five, Sir, five.”

Six, seven, and eight are all delivered with Steve’s hand, the last accompanied by the scraping of his nails right across both cheeks. Tears leak down Bucky’s face. Snot dribbles from his nose. He’s even drooling. 

“Sir…” he cries. “Oh, please, Sir…” Bucky barely eve has a voice left to plead with. “I have to come. Oh… Oh god…” 

Bucky’s cock, throbbing and in so much need of release, is dripping with precome, soaking into red panties and tight curls. 

“You can gimme ten, can’t you?” Steve asks. “I know you have it in you, my good boy.” 

Steve flicks the whip again and Bucky screams out a number, hoping it the right one. It might happen again, it might not, it’s getting hard to keep track of things. 

That fog has gotten thicker, rising up all around him. He’s vaguely aware of his voice whispering to Steve. Still begging. Of his body suddenly moving. Lowering back down to the bed. And then being emptied… the plug. Steve’s taken it out.

But… why is he still so full? And it feels so good, too… oh _fuck_ , it feel so good. _Too fucking good_ , he _can’t_ last this way. He’s not going to last. Not with this god damn piece of heaven drilling into him. Every thrust better than the last. 

Bucky opens his eyes. When did he close his eyes? As the world begins to reshape around him, things slowly start to make sense. Steve. It’s Steve inside of him. Making him feel this good. So much better than any plug. Any vibrator. Steve is inside of him and has his brow against his and Bucky wants to be good, he does, he really does…

“Sir… Sir… I… I’m trying… I…”

“You wanna come, little sub?” Steve asks. “You wanna come with me?”

“Yes!” Bucky screams. “Please, say I can, oh please!”

Maybe, Steve nods, Bucky can’t be one hundred percent sure, but he does slam their lips together and the second he does Bucky’s entire world is stuck by lightning. Electricity runs down his spine as wave after wave of euphoria roll over him, his body finally given over to the pleasure it’s been seeking this whole time. 

As the waves settle, the fog rolls in thick and heavy. Bucky can’t see past it. Can’t hear. Everything is too sparkly and bright as light pierces through the fog. It all cradles him gently in a world of peace and tranquility. 

A part of him wonders if he should fight against it. If he should remain grounded and keep his head out of the clouds just like the rest of his Dominants expected. It’s too hard this time, even if he tried. 

It’s just so warm, where he is now. Warm and soft. Beautiful. A place of absolute brilliance. Where he can soar above the world between reality and fantasy. 

Bucky isn’t so sure how long he stays like that, but it must be for a considerable amount of time since the first sliver of the real world he’s aware of is Steve’s voice. Steve’s worried voice. 

“Bucky, baby, please,” he’s saying, “you don’t have to do much, just lemme know you’re okay.”

Okay? Good _god_ he couldn’t be better. He could be made out of streamers of sunlight and the way Steve makes him feel is still better. 

“Um…” Steve makes another worried noise. “Shit. Please, Bucky. If I… fuck, Steve, you idiot.” His big, strong hands gently pet over the top of Bucky’s head and Bucky realizes that Steve is holding him. And it’s warm. And it’s safe. “Please, please, wake up, baby. I’m so sorry if I did something… I… you didn’t safeword or… shit, Bucky, I…”

Trying to find his own voice, Bucky uses Steve’s as a guide back to his body. Even if only for a second. Just to let him know that he’s fine. More than fine. He feels like gold. Shimmering and worth even more than all the riches in the world. 

The first thing he’s able to do his take a light grip around the arm holding him as Steve goes on with his concerned rambling, worried about Bucky’s well-being. 

“Mm.” 

It’s the first sound Bucky’s able to make, escaping his throat like a noise against stone. He sucks in a deep breath. Sighs. 

“Bucky?” Steve’s voice turns hopeful. “Oh, baby, please answer me. You were such a good boy, baby, I just need you to answer me now.”

With some effort -- a _lot_ of effort -- Bucky manages to open his eyes. He finds his face buried in Steve’s chest. Bucky sucks in another deep breath. Tries for some more strength. And just manages to lift his head enough that his eyes meet Steve’s. 

“Hi,” Bucky says softly.

The second he does, tears fill Steve’s eyes and he quickly brushes them away with his free hand.

“Hey,” he answers. “You with me now? A little?”

“Mm-mm.” Bucky smiles a little. Whispers, “M’okay.” 

Relief light up his face like a sunrise. He nods and kisses Bucky’s brow and pets him again. Bucky almost wishes he’d never stop. 

“Okay. Okay, I… okay.” Steve shakes his head. “I didn’t go too far? Right?”

Bucky shakes his head. “Perfect. Yes. Thank you, Sir.” 

“No.” He kisses him again. “You were perfect. So… such a good boy, Bucky.”

Bucky practically melts, a huge, uncontrollable smile pulling up on his lips. He can’t help it. The haze in his mind is still making him float high, and Steve doesn’t seem to be in a hurry to force him back down, so Bucky just starts giggling. And nuzzles into the folds of Steve’s arms. And giggles some more. 

“You’re adorable, you know that?” Steve says. “You don’t have to talk or anything, it’s okay. Just rest. You were so good for me, Bucky. Such a good, boy.” His hand pets over his head. His neck. Down to his back. It tickles. Bucky likes it. “God, I could just lay here with you forever. My little sub.”

His finger is tracing over the top of the collar. The collar that he’s given Bucky to wear for the night. To be his sub. His little sub. Bucky giggles some more. 

“Sorry,” Steve whispers. “If I’m saying too much. I just… I’ll stop.” 

Bucky shakes his head. “Please, don’t. Sir. Talk. More.” 

“Yeah?” Steve sounds thrilled at the request. “You want me to… okay, um… I… oh, you were so good, Bucky. And you looked amazing, all tied up for me…”

Steve goes on talking for quite some time, and Bucky could listen to it for hours and hours. For all he knows, he does. 

“Hello,” Steve says when Bucky lifts his head after it’s been quiet for a few minutes. “Awake now?”

“I guess,” he huffs. “If I have to be.” 

“Well, I’d like you to be. I want to put some aloe on your ass, okay?”

Now that attention has been brought to it, Bucky does feel how sore he is. The burning. He also realizes the cockring and spreader bar have been taken off. 

Nodding, Bucky sucks in a deep breath and lets Steve slip out from under him. He doesn’t go far. He doesn’t even leave the bed. The aloe is already there. Cool to the touch when Steve gently rubs it along his skin. Once he’s finished with that, Steve begins to undo the ropes that’re still around him. Promises a warm bath and full body massage whenever Bucky's ready. At the moment, Bucky's content with just being in Steve's arms. 

“Sir?” Bucky’s stomach is tight as Steve finishes with the last of the ropes. “Is it… you’ll still hold me?” 

Steve snickers. “That's okay with me.” He taps the collar. “Do you want me to take this--”

“Mm-mm.” Bucky shakes his head. That's the last thing Bucky wants. “Leave it on, Sir? Please?” 

"Okay," Steve whispers. Pulls Buck back into his arms and under the blankets. "Here. Sugar. And I have some water, too."

In Steve's hand are a few pieces of chocolate. Bucky grins and takes them, holding them to his chest like they're precious childhood teddy bears he's not willing to share with anyone. As he eats them, popping them into his mouth one by one, Steve keeps him warm. Holds him close. Makes him feel safe. Protected. As Bucky's Dominant. And yet not his Dom at all. Not yet. But then… maybe…

“Sir?”

“Yes?” Steve’s gone back to petting him. Sweet, gentle strokes of his hand. “What is it, little sub?” 

Bucky grins. He’s never thought of pet names as something that would make his heart sing before. This one is different. Makes him feel like Steve might be willing to hand him the world on a silver platter. Even if Bucky’s about to do this all wrong. 

“I… I was just wondering, um.” Bucky sighs. This is completely improper and rude and can even be considered illegal, and yet he’s about to do it. “You… you said something about… about a, uh, a…” He closes his eyes to ask, the question itself just too intimidating to ask while looking at anything. “A Collar of Protection?”

The fingers that have been rubbing soft, soothing circles into Bucky’s muscles stop. Steve tenses. 

“Shit,” Bucky mutters. “I’m sorry, Sir. I shouldn’t’ve asked that I know. I--”

“Hey,” Steve whispers. Gently guides Bucky’s chin up. “Look at me, little sub.” Bucky whimpers but does as he’s told. “Good boy.” Steve wipes some hair away from Bucky’s face and kisses him. “You think you’d really want that, Bucky? You’re comfortable with that?”

Bucky studies Steve’s face, the openness and genuine concern. For the first time ever, Bucky really feels as though someone wants to take care of him. To make him feel safe and protected. Happy. Steve isn’t pushing for any other type of collar. Not talking about contracts. He’s not even hinting at one. He simply made this offer once and is now making sure Bucky’s positive about accepting it. 

Steve had said once that he could fall in love with Bucky. Bucky’s quite sure his heart has been tripped, and he’s falling himself. 

“Yes,” he murmurs, touching the Scene Collar around his neck. “Yes, Sir. I want it.”

A smile touches Steve’s face. “Then, Bucky, I’d be honored to give you my Collar of Protection. On my honor, I will keep you safe and do whatever I can to make you feel comfortable whenever you need it. I’ll take you to City Hall whenever you’d like to make it official.”

Bucky would laugh at Steve's cliches if he wasn't so freaking adorable. Hooking their ankles, Bucky hums and wraps an arm around Steve's waist. As if knowing he's being laughed at, Steve huffs and opens a bottle of water. Has Bucky take a few sips.

“Tomorrow," Bucky asks. "Please? I don’t want to wait.” 

“Tomorrow then.” Steve chuckles and hugs him closer. “Bucky?” 

“Sir?”

“Thank you.” 

Unsure why he’s thanking him, Bucky glances up with a shake of his head. 

“For what?” 

“For saying yes again.” 

Bucky’s smiling. So much that it hurts. He snuggles into Steve’s embrace and kisses his chest. Steve kisses the top of his head. Around Bucky's neck, Steve's Scene Collar sits comfortably, reminding him that it's there -- a friend, a hug, a promise. Tomorrow, Steve's Collar of Protection will be there instead. A chance that Bucky's taking, he knows, putting his trust in Steve by saying yes. A rose that's growing between them, beautiful and sweet and full of thorns that can prick, and Bucky wants it to grow anyway. 

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! hope you had as much fun as Bucky and Steve! look me up on tumblr for more marvel fun at [thebestpersonherelovesbucky](http://thebestpersonherelovesbucky.tumblr.com/)!


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